


Domestic Bliss

by spareteeth



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Rhys, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Top Jack, a bit of praise kink sprinkled in there, blowjob, soft jack is valid but lets not pretend hes not also an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 10:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spareteeth/pseuds/spareteeth
Summary: In Layman’s terms, Rhys and Jack have sex and admit more than they’d initially cared to.





	Domestic Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> This was a drabble I did for tumblr forever ago before I had this account, and technically my first fic I’ve ever written. Since tumblrs dead pretty much I figured I’d bring my lil fluffy smut here

“Oh my god, you are so full of yourself,” Rhys groaned from his sitting position, nestled into Jack’s side, watching as his boyfriend’s deft fingers swept across the keyboard of his computer. Jack snorted and mumbled some offhand remark about how Rhys didn’t seem to mind being full of him, making him blush indignantly. 

“Why can’t you just get over it,” he said, trying to ignore the crude joke, “you have to know it was an accident. Please tell me you’re cognizant enough to make that connection.”

“Babe, if I let  _ this guy _ off the hook, then the atmosphere of fear and godlike respect I’ve been cultivating for years now goes straight down the shitter. I can’t afford that.”

“What if  _ I _ accidentally broke one of your precious little statues? What would you do then?” Rhys inquired, half-jokingly. 

“Why, I’d punish you as needed of course,” Jack smirked, never taking his eyes off his screen, “Duh.”

“Hmm, I think I’m still lost. Maybe I need to learn the hard way,” Rhys teased as he slunk over to a bust depicting the very man he loved, somehow, despite all his shortcomings. He traced the cool marble with his fingers, lingering on the lips. Then, he took note of the eyes. They were never quite right, never quite caught that flame that danced in his lover’s eyes constantly, only put out in the rare moments he’d caught Jack unaware of his presence. Aside from that, the craftsmanship was beautiful, Rhys was nearly as fond of this face as he was of the real deal, sitting on the couch a few paces away, intently finishing up his work. Rhys had planned on smashing the artwork to make a point, to be a brat, but he couldn’t bear to destroy it as he gazed upon the stone visage. He looked back up at the real Jack, who had just turned around in his seat to look at Rhys.

“What? You not gonna chuck the thing? Where’s your conviction, champ?” Jack sneered, hand absently mussing his own hair.

“Too pretty,” Rhys answered simply. This earned a laugh from Jack, who then rose from where he was seated to move in closer.

“So you see my point?”

Rhys raised his hands, a sign of surrender to the ever-correct Handsome Jack. Both sets of mismatched eyes locked, that flame burning brighter than it had been a mere moment ago.

“What are you thinking about?” Jack wrapped his tanned arms around the other’s waist, pulling their hips together, his low voice somehow soft and rough at the same time. He nuzzled into Rhys’ neck to plant gentle kisses along his throat and collarbone, paying special attention to his tattoo. 

Rhys hummed appreciatively, “About how much I want you to take me to bed.”

Seeing Jack being gentle was rare, and he planned on getting as much out of it as he could. 

Jack pulled back to look Rhys in the eyes again, a wicked grin splitting his face. He cupped his cheek and hummed, leaning in to press their lips together. Rhys tilted his head and parted his lips, open for his love. Jack seized this opportunity with fervor, licking into his mouth like a horny teen, still as desperate as ever, though he’d never admit it. Jack’s hand drifted restlessly across Rhys’ body, annoyed that the clothing still remained, he made this clear by tugging on that ugly ass tie Rhys insisted on wearing until it was gone, hastily unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and fumbling with the belt buckle with the other. This, in Rhys’ eyes, was a god given talent, and the promise of what was to come sent heat all through his body. Once those pesky clothes were off, Jack was all mouth and hands, biting, licking, kissing, squeezing every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Jack,” Rhys huffed out, “Bed. Now.” His attempts to seem authoritative were thwarted by the rosy tint of his cheeks and his breathy whimpers.

“You know, it’s really cute when you try to boss me around,” Jack snickered as he lifted Rhys up to wrap those long legs of his around his waist, “Like right now I bet you think you’re giving me a sexy, stern look right now, but really it’s a pout. You’re just a little baby.” As Jack cooed obnoxiously, trying to get under Rhys’ skin, he carried him to the bedroom and plopped him on the overpriced silk sheets.

“I’m not a-“ Rhys was cut off by a hand rubbing his dick through his underwear, mewling a bit at the friction. His eyes fluttered closed and he gently rocked his hips into the war, touch.

“Jesus Christ, pumpkin, you couldn’t be threatening if you tried, you melt so easily,” Jack proceeded to lay on the usual douchebag routine, though it was a tad less convincing now that his voice was strained with desire. When Rhys noticed the shift in tone, he opened his eyes again to see the man looming over him palming himself through his pants.

“Take those off,” Jack growled at Rhys, indicating the boxers gracing his lean frame, blocking him from what he really wanted. Rhys quickly complied, erection flushed red and begging for attention. He began to lazily stroke himself as he watched Jack struggle to quickly remove all those unnecessary layers he always wore. In an attempt to fluster Jack, he moaned a bit louder than he normally would, arching his back and using his metal hand to play with his nipples, putting on a one man show for the most demanding of audiences. He risked a glance at Jack through his lashes to find that his plan had worked, the man briefly losing his collected facade in favor of dumbfounded.

“What?” Rhys said, never stopping his indulgent theatrics.

“I’m the luckiest man alive.”

That had caught Rhys off guard, the sentiment pushing its way to the front of his brain and he was beaming at the praise. Small moments like that with Jack made his heart flutter, and though they were few and far between Rhys cherished them. The couple seemed to surge towards each other at the very same moment, caught up in another deep kiss, unspoken feelings rushing underneath their skin, begging to pour out of their bodies and drown them both. But they weren’t ready, and that seemed to amplify the magnitude of it, the sheer force of that tidal wave might just drown them yet.

Jack, now working on his last layer -tacky novelty Hyperion boxers- seemed reluctant to separate from Rhys’ warm mouth, leaving small pecks at the corner of his lips as the underwear joined the pile of clothes on the floor.

Rhys’ mouth watered at the sight of Jack’s cock, precum beading at the slit, the head hanging heavy with arousal. The masked man began to stroke himself before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Come here, cupcake, want to feel that pretty little mouth of yours,” he practically whispered. Rhys got off the bed and kneeled in front of Jack, settling between his muscled legs, metal hand resting on his inner thigh. The cool metal made the man above him hiss, but Rhys figured he’d get over it. He looked up at his victim with wide eyes, batting his lashes as he kissed the sensitive skin around his erection, making sure to avoid what he knew really wanted. A whine slipped out of Jack’s throat, his pupils blown as he gazed down at the object of his desires, and a barely audible, “I love you,” tumbled from his lips. 

Rhys froze. The dam had broke, feelings were gushing out now, and Jack looked incredibly tense. After a moment, Rhys realized it was because he had halted all movement and started to stare dumbly at the man whose confession still hung in the air. 

“I love you too,” he whispered back, returning to his teasing when Jack sighed in relief and relaxed again. Rhys couldn’t help but smile against his skin. 

“Hey, uh, Rhysie? I know that was a lot to take in, because like ‘Wow, Handsome Jack loves me? My life has officially peaked, it’s only downhill from here,’ but if you don’t start using that mouth in a useful way I might push you out of an open airlock.”

Rhys let out a bark of a laugh, eyebrow raised as he licked ever so slightly at the tip of Jack’s swollen cock, teasing more precum out.

“Rhys,” Jack growled darkly, moving one of his hands to grip the other’s hair and involuntarily bucking his hips up against Rhys’ not quite open mouth. 

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

Rhys ran his tongue against the underside of the head, looking up at Jack once again, whose bottom lip was caught between two rows of pearly whites and brow was furrowed furiously. Before Jack could complain about it not being enough, Rhys cut him off by finally taking an inch or two into his mouth. A litany of murmured curses above him signaling his satisfaction. He began to bob his head, taking care to mind his teeth and using his tongue to massage the well endowed appendage in his mouth, moving slowly at first before Jack grew impatient. Rhys then adapted leaving his mouth open for Jack to thrust into, maintaining a strong grip on his hair. Tears threatened to spill a couple times as he took his cock to the root, feeling coarse curls meet his nose only to part again and again.

“Fuck, you’re so good, such a good boy, so fucking good at this,” Jack rambled as he drew closer to the end, the praisie making Rhys lightheaded. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen. Whichever it was, Jack pulled out before he could come and gruffly forced Rhys onto the bed.

“Face down, ass up,” he commanded as the grabbed the lube from the nightstand and stroke himself, thoroughly covering his dick. His fingers, still slick, found their way to Rhys’ entrance, one pushing in, eliciting a soft whine.

“Fucking gorgeous. Look at you, all spread out for me. So pretty like this,” Jack’s voice dripping in unbridled lust when Rhys successfully took a second finger, then a third. Soon Rhys was fucking himself again that hand for what felt like forever and nothing all at the same time, fingers hooked just right to brush against his prostate. He sighed glumly when the hand was withdrawn but immediately his spirits brightened when Jack’s head began pushing into his entrance. 

Jack took hold of Rhys’ hips and squeezed hard as he bottomed out, raking his nails into soft, flushed flesh and freely moaning for the first time this whole night. The sound went straight to Rhys’ dick, which Jack promptly began stroking as he pistoned in and out of him. They were both already so close, though Jack’s pride was on the line here, so Rhys focused as hard as he could on how great he felt in this moment, so full of Jack, so full of love. It wasn’t long before his vision began to fail him and he cried out Jack’s name, coming into his hand. Jack continued his tirade of praises and pressed open mouthed kisses to Rhys’ shoulders as he lost any semblance of a set pace and came so hard he swore he’d died and came back.

Jack collapsed next to Rhys, the pair both absolutely boneless in the afterglow. An unasked question buzzed in Rhys’ brain.

“Do you really love me?” He blurted with all the grace of a cooked noodle.

“Yeah, dum-dum. Thought you were smart enough to piece that one together, especially since I explicitly told you like five minutes ago,” Jack poked at him good-naturedly, lopsided grin betraying his exasperated voice, shifting his weight so he was facing the taller man.

Rhys pressed a kiss to Jack’s forehead and defended himself, “Hey, nobody’s perfect.”

“Lie, I’m literally right here.”

A few minutes pass in comfortable silence before Jack’s wrecked voice cuts through the air, “So, shower?”

“Obviously, you came in me. Which, by the way you didn’t warn me about.”

“Oopsie daisy, guess I’ll just have to come and help you clean up,” Jack chuckled before dragging himself out of bed. 

“Up and at’tem, Princess, let’s go!”

As Rhys followed him to the bathroom, he thought this was the type of domesticity he could definitely get used to.

  
  
  



End file.
